Black Sails | XIV.

Merry Whump of May - Day 7

“Write what you know.”

Box

Magic

Cell

(BBC Merlin)

@themerrywhumpofmay

“If- no, when, we get out of here, I’m going to write a book about what an idiot you are.”

Merlin sighed and rested his head against the wooden bars. “Well, write what you know, I suppose.”

“How could you think stopping to ask for directions could ever be a good idea? I knew where we were going.”

“We were lost and they looked friendly enough.” Merlin turned away from the bars and looked down at Arthur. “Look, how long are you going to complain? Maybe we should try figuring out how to get out here?”

“You figure out how to get us out.” Arthur drawled from his spot on the floor. He was lounging on the one and only pile of damp hay in the cell. The bruises from the attack were still fresh and swollen across his cheek and eye. “I’ll continue to complain, thank you very much.”

Merlin gently rubbed the bump on the back of his head. He looked around the cell for what felt like the hundredth time. They had been taken to a sort of cave lair, a wooden holding cell built into the rock wall. It was sturdy. And they had a guard at all times. 

Merlin licked his dry lips. 

He couldn’t use magic. Arthur was here. 

They were stuck, for now. 

Why had they been captured anyway? Maybe they planned to ransom the prince? Merlin puzzled over it until his head began to throb again. He sat down and closed his eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve given up.”

“I haven’t.” Merlin murmured and leaned his forehead against the lattice of wooden bars. “I’m thinking.”

Arthur barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Merlin frowned and made himself bite back several rude remarks. 

It was at that moment that a few more bandits, or whatever they were, appeared in the chamber and opened the cell door.

“Oh thank goodness, you’ve come to your senses-” Arthur got up from the floor.

“Stay where you are.” The woman who had opened the door, green eyes blazing in the torchlight, pointed at Arthur.

Then she pointed to Merlin. “You. Come.”

“Me?” Merlin swallowed hard.

“Now.” She ordered.

Arthur took a step forward. “Look, he’s just a servant-”

Another of the bandits pointed a crossbow at Prince Arthur through the cell bars.

Arthur stopped, hands raised. 

Merlin picked himself off the rough stone floor. His head throbbed. The woman then grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the cell. Merlin threw one last look at Arthur before he disappeared around the corner, deeper into the cave tunnel.

Merlin was taken to a smaller, darker chamber. The walls were wet and moss was growing there. He was forced onto a chair in the middle of the room. 

“My name is Deryn.” The green-eyed woman spoke while the others tied Merlin to the chair. “That’s all you need to know about me. As for my companions, ignore them. You will speak only to me; whether answering my questions or begging for mercy. Do you understand?”

Merlin swallowed hard. The ropes binding him to the chair were rough and were painfully tight. His heart was racing. What did they want with him?

“Do you understand?” Deryn repeated.

“Yes.” Merlin rasped. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

“Good.”

One of the bandits handed a large, flat wooden box to Deryn. The wood was dark and cracked with age and carved with strange symbols. Merlin tried to make them out in the flickering torchlight. But they swam and danced before his eyes. 

Deryn walked forward and set the box on Merlin’s lap.

“Here.” She said, “Hold this for me.”

Merlin, arms bound behind him, could not help but watch as she lifted the lid off, wood scraping, and revealed an enormous, golden collar. It was wide and flat, resembling a darkly glimmering crescent moon. There were fastenings at the two tips. It was old. Very old. Merlin could sense it. 

Merlin licked his dry lips and looked back up at Deryn. “What do you want, Deryn?” He asked. 

She did not answer.

Deryn picked up the collar by the two ends, leaned forward, and fastened it around Merlin’s neck. It was heavy and cold against his skin. Deryn set the box aside. 

“This is a very ancient treasure.” Deryn circled around Merlin and ran a finger over the minute carvings on the collar. “It was found a long time ago and was passed down through my family. It’s been called a blessing. And a bane. Let me show you how it works.”

Deryn brushed a curl of her dark hair back, took out a bone-handled knife, and plunged it into Merlin’s gut.

Merlin opened his mouth to scream, to breathe, to cry. But he could not draw breath. The pain was a fire in his stomach. It blazed through him. He shuddered and realized he’d closed his eyes, tears leaking over his cheeks. 

He opened his eyes to see Deryn again. She pulled the knife out.

Agony again. Merlin began to wail, low and keening, each breath he took to cry out was misery. 

A wound to the stomach was a death sentence. No one could fix that kind of injury. Not even Gaius. Why had she decided to kill him? Panting and curled over his wound, Merlin watched Deryn wipe off her knife.

“It is a very powerful treasure. One that I’ve had to protect my whole life.” Deryn said. “It should reveal its purpose now.”

And just as she spoke, Merlin felt the pain intensify. He choked.

Every nerve around his wound began to blaze even more. He was dying. He had to be. How could he endure this? 

Restrained by the chair, Merlin began to tremble and shake, screaming and screaming and screaming. The collar was killing him. 

Hours passed. Or many minutes. Merlin could not tell. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with tears. 

Eventually, he noticed that Deryn had approached him again and lifted his shirt. Merlin caught sight of his stomach. No, it couldn’t be.

The wound was gone. There was blood. And a thin, pale scar. But no gaping knife wound. Nothing.

“It heals.” Deryn let Merlin’s shirt drop back down. “Painfully. So,” Deryn brought a chair over and sat down in front of Merlin. “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you refuse.” Deryn held up the knife. “You know what to expect. No surprises.”

Merlin felt the blood leave his face. He threw up all over his lap.

“Let’s get started.”

Sometime later, Merlin found himself being dragged, arms supported and legs limp. Then he was dropped. Someone was calling his name. Every inch of him throbbed, raw with remembered pain.

Merlin felt himself being turned over and he cracked his eyes open. 

He found Arthur above him and a rough hand touching his cheek. There was something soft beneath his head. 

“Can you hear me? Are you alright?” Arthur’s voice was far away. “Where are you hurt?”

Merlin could not help but attempt a smile. 

He wasn’t hurt anywhere. It was all healed. But he still shivered and ached. And it still felt like he had the collar on. He could feel its phantom weight around his neck, cold and heavy. 

“Fine.” He managed to rasp in answer to Arthur’s questions. Merlin closed his eyes again. He was so tired. “Not… hurt.” He sighed.

“How am I supposed to believe that when you’re covered in blood?”

“Magic?”

Merlin heard a soft laugh above him and felt a cool hand push his sweaty hair back from his forehead. He drifted. 

Merlin awoke to yelling. And pain. 

His eyes snapped open. 

Arthur was being held back by two of the bandits. 

And Deryn was there, standing over Merlin. “Come along.” She ordered. 

Swaying and still half-asleep, Merlin struggled to his feet and followed her.

The moss-covered cave room. The box. The collar.

It began again. 

But Merlin was ready. 

Last time, he didn’t know what to expect. But now he did. No surprises. 

As soon as Deryn fastened the golden, crescent-shaped collar about his neck, Merlin kicked out with every ounce of magic he had. 

He burned his bonds away. He threw Deryn across the room and heard her spine snap. Then Merlin ran. He knew the way. Falling, half-conscious, he ran to Arthur. 

Merlin raised his hands and ripped and tore the wooden cell to pieces. Wood splinters flew. Dust hung in the air. Shouting. Crossbow bolts flew. 

“Arthur!” Merlin roared. 

Merlin looked at one of the bandits and they burst into fire and sparks. Screams. 

They ran. Out of the cave. And into the cold night.

Merlin didn’t realize that they had stopped until he found himself in Arthur’s arms. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Gaius. He- he’ll fix you up, I promise.”

Arthur was laying him down on the cold, wet ground. In the light of a weak dawn, Merlin could see two crossbow bolts sticking out his chest. How had he not noticed?

Arthur’s hands moved to Merlin’s neck, around back, to take off the collar.

No. 

Merlin flung his hand out and pushed Arthur away. “Don’t.” He gasped. 

The collar was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Take out the bolts.” Merlin begged. “Not this.” He touched the gold collar. 

“I don’t understand.” Arthur’s eyes were wide. And frightened. 

“It’s magic.” Merlin’s thoughts were too fuzzy to properly explain. “It heals wounds. Take the bolts out. Let it heal me.”

Arthur moved forward, grimacing. “Right now?”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “Should I schedule a better time for you?”

At that, Arthur gave him a watery smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Merlin took Arthur’s hand and guided it to one of the bolts. “Let’s get started.”

Whumpay - Day 11

Main Challenge - Ineffective Medical Care - Medical Torture Mini Challenge 11 - Dialogue - “Who did this to you?” Original Work - Ashfirth Farm

Rabbit unwound the handkerchief from his neck and mopped his brow. “Good day, sir. Come to help mend the fence with me?” Rabbit finished his joke with a grin.

Caldwell froze with a smile on his face. His smile disappeared. His mouth opened. All he could do was stare.

Rabbit was quick to notice and his grin faded. “Mr. Caldwell?”

Caldwell’s eyes dropped to the ground and then anywhere but Rabbit. “How did you come by those?”

“What?”

Caldwell reached out slowly with his riding crop and pointed to Rabbit’s neck. “Those.”

Rabbit reached up and put a hand to his neck. As soon as his fingers touched the puckered, rope-like, shiny scars, Caldwell saw Rabbit do something absolutely uncharacteristic.

Rabbit became embarrassed.

His eyes fell to the ground. His fingers fumbled as he tied the handkerchief about his neck again. He picked up his tools and got back to work.

Rabbit’s face was turned away when he tried to sound casual, lighthearted even. “Oh, yes. An accident, long ago. I’m sorry you saw that. It’s quite ugly.”

Caldwell didn’t miss the way Rabbit’s hands shook.

He usually would not pry. But seeing his friend so affected had him curious. Or that was what he decided he felt. He ignored the growing flame of worry and grief; the accident had to have been so awful that the normally unapologetic Rabbit would feel the need to hide it, and lie.

Caldwell got down from his horse. “Mr. Bell, what manner of accident befell you that would give you those scars?”

Rabbit Bell froze while trying to repair the pasture fence. “It’s nothing.”

Caldwell got down on his knees and began to help his tenant with the repairs. “It is not. Your hands are shaking.”

A long moment passed where Rabbit continued to stare down at the grass, tools held tightly within white knuckles, lips pressed hard together. Finally, he thrust the tools into Caldwell’s hands and stood up, laughing a little too bitterly for Caldwell’s liking.

“I told you that studied at the Kings Mages College in London.” Rabbit began, then stopped again.

A full minute passed by Rabbit paced back and forth.

Caldwell forgot the repairs he’d attempted to help with and just watched his tenant. Finally, he prodded Rabbit.

“Yes, you told me that you were a graduate from the college.”

Rabbit nodded and stopped pacing. He took a deep breath and spoke once more. “They perform research on a regular basis on the pupils and fellows of the college. This scarring is from one such research project.”

“What kind of research…” Caldwell trailed off. He couldn’t find the words. In addition to that, he felt like he was going beyond what could be considered polite inquiry. “I apologize.”

Rabbit sighed. He was trailing a finger along the handkerchief that covered the scars. Another moment passed and he took it off again. His shoulders drooped. His face took on a few lines that Caldwell had only seen when Rabbit was properly upset.

Caldwell stayed very still, as though Rabbit might bolt at the slightly movement.

“Because most spells require a vocal component, the research was done on only a few students. Gifted students.” Rabbit chuckled darkly.

“They wanted to understand what part the vocal cords played in spells. So,” And here Rabbit’s pallor became almost green.

“They immobilized the student with a paralytic and exposed the vocal cords surgically. The student was then asked to perform a specific set of spells while the vocal cords were observed. No pain relief was provided.”

Caldwell felt his stomach turn and struggled to keep his breathing under control. After he fully processed what Rabbit had just said, he felt a wave of anger overtake him.

“That’s barbaric.” Caldwell stood up and dropped the tools. He took a step towards Rabbit. “Mr. Bell, I cannot believe that learned men would stoop to such torture.”

Caldwell once again examined the scars. A central line ran down Rabbit’s throat with a few perpendicular scars. A cruel surgery. Was there any purpose to it?

“What were their findings?” He growled. “Other than a new method of torture?”

Rabbit smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Barbaric!” Caldwell fumed. “Utterly barbaric!”

“The fellows at the college would not agree with you.” Rabbit kept the handkerchief off for now. “It was a necessary act of service in order to further the pursuit of mages studies.” Rabbit sounded as though he were reciting something.

“Necessary, my arse!” Caldwell did not agree with it.

Rabbit laughed, a genuine laugh, and set his hand upon Caldwell’s shoulder. “Thank you for your support, Mr. Caldwell.”

“I believe any reasonable man would reject such an act.”

“A reasonable man, yes, but not a scholar.” Rabbit’s small smile revealed that some of his old humor was back. “You are a reasonable and an honorable man, Mr. Caldwell.”

Caldwell felt himself relax a little but a prickling anger still needled him. He wanted to do something for Mr. Bell, something to take the pain of these memories away. He had this itch to give comfort. But how? And why was this feeling so strong? Caldwell’s eyes rested upon Rabbit’s lips.

His cheeks were burning but it was a cool day. “You are too kind, Mr. Bell.”

The tension around Rabbit’s shoulders seemed to disappear and he bent down to the ground to continue his repairs on the fence. “Not at all, sir.” He replied.

Caldwell swallowed hard and got back on his horse, which was grazing nearby. He rode back to the manor in a daze.

Fringe S03E10 (The Firefly)

OLIVER STARK  Into The Badlands → 1.03 “White Stork Spreads Wings”

“You’re safe, Leo. It’s me.”

            “Mattie.”

MEDIWHUMP MAY PROMPTS

Mediwhump May. It's dirty medicine.

Welcome to Mediwhump May. 31 days, 31 prompts. The only limit is your imagination.

Don't forget to tag @mediwhumpmay and use your tags #mediwhumpmay

IV /Cannula

Stitches

Seizure

Pain

No Response

Needlephobic

First Night in Hospital

Scared of Blood

Oxygen

Short of Breath

Withdrawal

"Just one more sip."

Surgery

Loss of Consciousness

Nausea / Vomiting

Dizzy

"Stay awake for me."

Stabbing

Emergency Room

Breakdown

Field Medicine

Doctor Becomes the Patient

Bleeding Out

"We've got you now." / "You're safe."

Shaking

Sedation

Car Crash

No Screaming

Head Injury

Choke

Ambulance Ride

Bonus / Alternative Prompts

No Pain relief

Infection

Poisoning

Broken Bones

Teeth

so i said fine, ‘cause that’s how my daddy raised me if they strike once, then you just hit ‘em twice as hard but in the end, if i bend under the weight that they gave me then this heart would break and fall as twice as far

Whumpay - Day 2

Main Challenge - Mad Science - Paralytic Drug Mini Challenge 2 - Torture - Whipping Original Work - Doorway in the Sky

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Can’t be that bad, right?”

Ash frowned at Mel and sighed loudly out of his nose. “You ready then?”

Mel nodded.

Ash jumped, slammed his hands down on the table, and swept their food trays off. The hard plastic clattered loudly on the tile and the food painted the jumpsuits of the nearby people.

Mel’s wide eyes goaded Ash on.

“The fuck did you say?” Ash shouted.

Then he threw himself across the table and tackled Mel to the ground. One punch to the nose got Mel’s blood flowing. Several guards jogged over and tried to pull him off her. Soon enough, Ash felt a prick on the back of his neck, and then nothing.

He stopped wrestling Mel and reached back. There was a dart sticking out of his neck. He yanked it out and saw the yellow band about the metal casing. His lips went numb. His fingers tingled. His hands fell to his sides.

And Ash slumped to the tile floor, hitting it cheek first. It hurt like a bitch.

Mel lay beside him and met his eyes. She grinned through blood-stained teeth.

Ash would have smiled if he could. But he could not. He had been hit with the yellow banded dart. The paralytic. Oh good.

Ash’s eyes slipped mostly closed as he was hauled from the floor. He could still hear and feel everything. Plastic restraints were tightened around his wrists and ankles. Which didn’t make much sense since he was paralyzed.

Ash watched the floor flash by beneath him. His head, hanging limp, bobbed with every step the two orderlies holding him up took. Their grip on his arms hurt. But there was nothing he could do.

They were buzzed through several doors. The hallways became quieter. The floors became cleaner. Whispers all around him.

Finally, Ash was brought into an office and propped up in a soft chair. With his chin resting on his chest, all Ash could see was the plush, patterned carpet and a pair of shiny, black shoes.

Drool dripped from the side of his mouth.

“Lift her head.”

A pair of sweaty hands clamped onto Ash’s cheeks and propped his head against the back of the chair. When the orderly stepped away, Ash was looking up into the face of Dr. Palmer.

Dr. Palmer gave Ash a small smile then held up his penlight. “You know what to do, look into the light.”

He shone the light into Ash’s eyes and leaned in close.

Ash could smell coffee and disinfectant on him.

“Mmhmm, pupillary response is good.” Dr. Palmer leaned back. “Good, good. Now I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions, would you please blink once for ‘Yes’ and twice for ‘No’? Demonstrate by blinking once for ‘Yes, I understand the instructions.’”

Ash rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“This will go much quicker and easier if you cooperate.”

Ash blinked once.

“Thank you.” Dr. Palmer made a note on his clipboard. “Now, is your name Ashley Durham?”

Ash blinked once.

“Is your birthday the twenty-second of June?”

Ash blinked once.

“Do you know why you’ve been brought to my office today?”

Ash blinked twice.

Dr. Palmer chuckled and set down his clipboard, taking off his glasses to polish them a little with a handkerchief. “Ms. Durham, Ashley, I think you know why you’ve been brought to my office today. You were fighting. Again.”

Ash looked around the office as Dr. Palmer talked. He spotted the curtains on one wall almost immediately.

Dr. Palmer’s eyes flicked up and focused on something behind Ash’s left shoulder. He nodded. The pair of orderlies picked up Ash by the shoulders again, holding him upright in a standing position. Ash’s head fell back and he was able to see Dr. Palmer’s faint smile.

Dr. Palmer turned around, walked away, and took a cane from a stand across the room.

“Ashley, why would you want to hurt your best friend?”

Ash would have shrugged if he could. He just couldn’t move any part of his body right now, other than his eyes. And he could not help but look at the curtains again.

Dr. Palmer returned to Ash and the orderlies, brushing against the curtains as he went.

There was a flash of sunlight as the curtains rippled.

Ash drew in a quick breath and felt tears form in his eyes.

“Seeing you hurt your friend has hurt me.” Dr. Palmer stopped in front of Ash, blocking his view of the curtains.

This was Ash’s first glimpse of sunlight in months.

Months that had stretched on and on, feeling like decades. Or centuries. It has been so long since Ash had felt the warmth of sun on his skin. So long without daylight.

Dr. Palmer had a window. The only window Ash had seen in the Institute.

Ash hungered for sunlight. He felt something feral and innate rise within his belly and chest.

Dr. Palmer was still speaking.

Ash ignored him until Dr. Palmer took Ash’s chin in his hand. Warm, soft fingers stroked Ash’s cheek.

“Ashley, would you please listen to me? I want to help you.”

Dr. Palmer angled Ash’s face away from the window and towards him.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no.” Dr. Palmer’s voice dropped down to a murmur.

Ash could feel his breath on his cheek.

“Are you listening to me, Ashley?”

Ashley blinked twice.

Dr. Palmer sighed and removed his hand from Ash’s chin and wiped the drool off his fingers on the front of Ash’s jumpsuit.

“You’ve let me down. And what’s worse is that you’ve let yourself down.” Dr. Palmer stepped back and nodded at the two orderlies holding Ash.

Their grips tightened.

Dr. Palmer disappeared. Then his voice came from behind.

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

Ash focused on the curtain. The tiniest sliver of sunlight was poking, needle-like, through a gap.

The blow came down upon Ash’s shoulders. He heard it before he felt it.

Ash gasped and choked on the drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

The cane landed again on his back, a swift stinging blow. Loud as a gunshot in Ash’s ears. Bruising. The cane felt as though it were made of fire.

Another blow.

Ash heard himself groan, low and guttural.

Another blow.

Ash panted. Felt tears rolling down his cheeks.

That little finger of sunlight. Through a window. From the outside.

The last blow.

Dr. Palmer reappeared. He was saying something again to Ash but Ash had long ago tuned him out. Ash was dragged out of the office, back down the clean hallways, out of the quiet, and back into madness.

Hours later, Mel returned to their cell. The door buzzed shut and the lights out warning was given.

“Ash.” Mel whispered close to his ear.

Ash, laying belly-down on his cot, turned his head.

In the harsh fluorescent lights from above, Mel’s nose was purple and gray with bruising. One eye was blackened and swollen.

“Tell me.” Mel murmured.

Ash looked into her eyes. “I saw sunlight.”

Mel’s face crumpled into a watery smile and she kissed Ash’s forehead. “Thank you.”

“When we go,” Ash spoke so quietly he could barely hear himself.

“We go through there.”

“I’ll go with you anywhere.”

Ash turned his head away and faced the wall again. He stared at the hundreds of tally marks he had made. One for every day he had been in the Institute. “One more thing.” He whispered.

Mel’s fingers brushed gently through his hair. “What?”

The lights went out.

“Before we go, I’m killing him.”